NSFW

There is a kind of “Cabin In the Woods”-type horror scenario happening in “American Dad” S12E07: “Ninety North, Zero West”.

They fail to stop the Santa archtype from returning the Titan’s eyes, and the Endbringer wakes up.

In its weakened state, angry!Steve runs into it with the train, popping its eyes out of its head. But if he hadn’t done that …

“What is even happening?” He struggled to pull his right glove on, wishing once again that he’d ordered those new uniforms. But this is what he had – something leftover from ’02 and smelling just a bit dingy – and he’d make the best of it. He always did.

“I don’t know, Dad. They’re just telling us all to get out of town.” Ashley wore her uniform and looked so much like her old self that it ached, but he could tell by the uncertainty in her voice that she was still scrambled eggs.

“We’ll help with the evacuation, but we’ll keep moving toward the [exit] points,” he decided. She had no place being in a fire fight, and she wasn’t leaving his side. So he’d just have to stick clear of whatever disaster was rocking the town. “Grab our Go Bags. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

Evan strode down the short hallway to his favorite bathroom and locked himself inside. He was trembling and sweating and he didn’t know why.

Except she’d been dead. There’d been a funeral. She’d been out of his life for so long that he was beginning to get over her loss. The pain had never left, but he’d been putting his life back together. Then she was back again.

He’d been through an emotional yoyo-fucking. Like he’d been strapped down and the Safe Word was unpronouncable and the fear was … Read the rest “Thinking things; Excerpt of The Flameburst masturbating”

Title: J. He’d been in prison long enough
Collection: Intense Thoughts
Author: Harper Kingsley

“I masturbated furiously.
Then I smoked some weed.
And my thoughts became very intense.”

He’d been in prison long enough that he didn’t care who watched. As long as they kept their hands to themselves, they could admire all they liked.

The paper crinkled in his fist and he fought not to squeeze. He wanted to save the letter. It was from his favorite admirer. But it was hard not to wrinkle the sheet of notebook paper as he rocked his dick up into his encircling right hand.

With as much care as he could manage–not much–he laid the letter on the edge of the pillow near his head. Then he dug his heels into the thin mattress and began thrusting his hips as he jerked himself. He propped his left elbow behind his back to get some leverage as he made the mattress cry out beneath him, a creaking of springs and shifting of his whole body.

He gasped rhythmically as he worked himself off. And when he came, it was with a dramatic thrusting of hips and a flop back amongst sullied sheets.

He lay there for a long moment, face uplifted and eyes closed. He drew in deep shuddering breaths and let the sweat and cum dry on his skin.

Tomorrow was laundry day. They’d come around with the big carts and change his bedding for new.

Tonight he would sleep amongst his own body’s excretions. He would breathe in the scent of himself and rub it deep into his touch-starved skin.

And he would dream of his dear admirer.

His dear heart that he wished he’d met before his incarceration.

/END

This house is fucking freezing.

I have this small heater that’s supposed to make things livable and it does a half-assed job. It’s very disappointing.

I spend most of my time wearing thermal underwear and sweatsuits. I sleep under a layer of blankets.

It’s because the cold is a hungry beast. It tries to climb into a person’s veins.

I sometimes feel as though Eternal Winter has cast a spell on me.

In the same way that the Winter Queen cursed our country, I have to wonder if I’ve been more personally cursed. To always have cold hands and a standoffish personality. To be so entirely outside of every group I stand in.

And my curse began in this house. Where I spent my childhood and most of my adolescence. That I have returned to as an adult. Mostly because I have nowhere else to go.

That’s the sad thing about burned bridges. They tended to add up.

Now here I am. Home again, home again.

Making the best of a bad situation feels like the best thing I could do. So I’ll hold myself together until this is all over.

I huddle around the propane heater in the main living room and listen to the conversation swirl around me. Five people in one space could make a fair bit of noise. I made myself one of them and lived amongst them, waiting for word to come.

It’s almost a surprise when the blue stamped letter comes. I had nearly given into despair. (What if they’ve forgotten me? What if this life becomes my real life for the next ten years?)

The enthusiasm at receiving orders — it made me ashamed of myself. Just for a little bit. But mostly I felt as if I’d found something I’d spent years … Read the rest “The cold is a hungry beast. [NSFW]”

I make wishes on the stars all the time. It doesn't seem like a waste to me. Because in the forming of a wish--an idea--a concept of what can be is created. And until a wish is formulated, it's nothing but stardust and fantasy.